Private Lessons
by kinkylittlered
Summary: A crossover of sorts, Dean meets his new teacher Mr. Padalecki and attempts to have some fun.


At eighteen years old Dean Winchester had been to what felt like hundreds of schools. He had met literally thousands of students, hundreds of teachers. Faces and names blurred together, a handful of girlfriends here, a make out session with a boy there. Dean had learned to be open-minded with his selection of lovers to pass the time. Of late he had realized that high school had not only lost all appeal, but even high school sex had lost appeal. After all you could only sleep with so many cheerleaders before it became repetitive.

The first day of school was always panic filled, the eyes of the entire student body focused solely on the newest student. A smirk always played off of Dean's lips, his leather jacket hanging just right off of his broad shoulders. Dean loved to play the roll of bad boy, he loved the way he was instantly popular. All around Dean enjoyed high school, but longed for playmates outside of the student population. The challenge of a teacher seemed surprisingly fitting for Dean. The one person he really couldn't obtain in school. It had to be the right teacher though, one that would be easy to separate from emotionally.

Walking into his English classroom, Dean eyes instantly settled on a young and very handsome man writing on a chalkboard. Dean sucked in a deep breath before deciding that this teacher was the exact teacher for his little game.

"Excuse me, sir. I'm Dean Winchester, a new student" Dean leaned against the wall next to the chalkboard, flashing the man a bright smile.

"Hello, I'm Mr. Padalecki, have you read Hamlet yet? We are about half way through." The man was tall, with a mop of brown hair and perfect hazel eyes. He was at least 6'4, towering slightly over Dean.

"I have but I can't really remember the details. Maybe, you could help me after school? Catch me up?" Dean let a small pout cross his lips, his jade eyes shifting into a puppy dog expression.

"Certainly, Mr. Winchester." Mr. Padalecki smiled momentarily before nodding for Dean to take his seat.

XOXO

Dean walked immediately to the classroom of Mr. Padalecki, aka sexy teacher, for his private lesson. Dean was well aware that he had a certain appeal to both women and men. He fully intended to use all of his assets against this man, Dean was going to achieve his goal of obtaining the man, no matter the cost.

"Hello, Mr. Winchester." The teacher said politely, clearly not knowing Dean's intent.

"Call me Dean," He said with a nod, moving to sit in the chair next to Mr. Padalecki's desk.

"Sure, so I thought we might review Ophelia's role in Hamlet as well as what her character represents in society."

"Ya, 'course." Dean moved the chair closer, his leg pressing against the teachers. "Ophelia is the one who drowns right?"

"Uh, yes. She commits suicide after the death of her father. She essentially goes insane." The teacher's eyes shifted down to stare at Dean's legs pressing against his own.

"Right, I remember that." Dean let his hand slide down his thigh, the tips of his fingers brushing against the other man's leg.

"What significance do you think this has? What is Shakespeare alluding to?" The teacher attempted to shift away, but Dean's hand slide onto his thigh, holding him in place. "Dean, what are you doing?"

"I just like sitting close to you." Dean clashed a seductive smile, his hand pushing further up the man's leg.

"Dean, I don't mean to be presumptuous but I'm not gay. In fact, I'm married." Mr. Padalecki pushed Dean's hand from his thigh, his eyes wide.

"Come on, haven't you ever been curious about your sexuality?" Dean leaned in closer, his breath tickling across Mr. Padalecki's neck.

"Dean, no I haven't. Some people just aren't gay, I think you need to accept that." Standing, he walked from the room, shaking his head and laughing. "You better head home."

Mr. Padalecki laughed the entire way to his car, knowing he had a great story to tell his husband. After all, being a teacher was like being in the military; don't ask, don't tell.


End file.
